My Super Weekend on The Material’s Video Shoot!

Song: “Before This Ship Goes Down”

I just enjoyed an amazing weekend with The Material up in Simi Valley! Friday was spent in a motel 6 watching Titanic with Wes, Roi, and Kevin. This is of course after Wes and I drove up there from San Diego, and after buying beverages at the local Vons. We looked forward to an early morning the next day so we fell asleep soon after Titanic ended. We woke up at 5:30am the next morning, and headed over to Jon’s Dad’s house for our first day, their second day, of filming. I did Colleen’s make-up right away, failed at curling her hair quickly enough, and filming began! Jake also got a bit of powder and refining primer, but nothing too fancy. Filming at the house, the field, and the house again took place, and then we wrapped for the day. Both Colleen and Jake did an amazing job, and the rest of us worked hard at either sleeping or fulfilling odd jobs to keep the set going. Matt Silver, the director, relayed interesting visions to Colleen, and they turned out amazing as well. Jordan suggested that we hit up TGI Fridays for happy hour while Colleen and Jon attended a wedding, so of course we accepted! Inexpensive beer and $5 long islands consumed us as quickly as we consumed them, and we finished the night at Jordan’s house. He graciously let us stay the night after I rudely and unknowingly passed out on his bed (it was his fault for sucking us into that ridiculous drinking game!). The next morning was a painful one, so Wes, Roi, Kevin, and I went to In-N-Out to appease our hunger. The plan was to get food there on Saturday night, but we never made it:). I did Colleen’s make-up at her house this time, and the shooting continued at a Cafe and the infamous field. The cafe scene was A LOT of fun, and there are some exciting guest appearances. After mini Colleen and mini Jake cooperated for cookies in the field, we celebrated the shoot being finished at Colleen’s. Margs, sangria, a rough cut of the video, and delicious pizza finished the night. Wes and I were sad to leave, but the drive wasn’t all that bad. Overall it was an extremely productive, exhausting, and fun weekend with friends. The video will be incredible! 

12:52 pm  •  12 October 2010

LYDIA MARIA CHILD: September 29, 2009-September 23, 2010 

You all know who Lydia is, and if you met her, a part of you has indeed died today. She lived to be just under a year old, and she was a happy spirit with a firm stance and warm heart. She loved food, sleeping, candy, hugs, running, swimming, adventuring, unconditionally loving, protecting, anyone who showed the slightest bit of affection towards her, and our sweet Bella. She has immortalized herself through the character that she possessed and the memories that she created for everyone she met, and she will be missed immensely. The pain that I personally feel is indescribably hopeless, and I’d never wish it upon anyone. I have never had human children so i cannot rightfully compare this to losing a child; but i think I’d rather die than to endure anymore pain than this. I love my little Lydia, my sweet baby, and I will never forget her.

Rest peacefully my beautiful baby girl.

Love through life and death, your mother, Rachele

My Chunx, 

I can’t believe I am having to write a goodbye when it seems like we met such a short time ago. Any person that met Lyd fell instantly in love with her. She was everything any person could ever ask for in a companion and more. She didn’t deserve to leave this world so soon and it’s hard to imagine our life, our house, our family without her here, snorting and being chunky. I am so lucky to have had her in my life, albeit for the short time that she was here. I will never be okay with her not being around, and there is a chunky hole in my heart that won’t be filled. It was so hard to tell Stinky that her sister won’t be around anymore. 

Lydia, I will miss you forever and think of you everyday. Going to the park will never be the same. You completed our strange little family.

I love you and miss you so much already LydiaChunx, your dad, Wes.

Today Lydia, Bella, my mother, and I went to fiesta island for a walk. Bella got in a tiff with a pitbull, but backed off quickly. Lydia kept the fight going, and the pitbull tore her ear in half by the end of it. The guy was an asshole, and all I could do was think about rushing Lydia to the vet. She was bleeding everywhere, but acted as if nothing had happened. We got her to the vet, luckily they were available to stitch it up right away, and I left her a live and careless dog. I was to pick her up at 4pm; I received a call shortly after I reached my mom’s house; the worst call I have ever received in my life. The world literally stopped, and denial and uncertainty consumed me. Lydia didn’t wake up from the anesthesia. Her heart had stopped, and when the doctor said, “she died,” I repeatedly screamed no and refused to believe it. All I remember from driving to the vet was muttering no, crying, and assuring myself that they’d be able to fix her. The last amount of time we got to spend with our baby girl was with her departed body in a sterile room. Saying goodbye when i knew we were too late broke my heart into pieces repeatedly. I don’t blame the vet, the dog that bit her, or myself for taking her to one of her favorite places in the world this morning. I miss my baby terribly, and would like to mourn her privately. Please do not walk into our house and ask about her, ask any questions, or bring her up at all for a very long time. Everyone lost someone special today, but the last thing our family wants to hear is that you share the same pain that we feel. Thank you for respecting our wishes and for your condolences.

5:08 pm  •  23 September 2010

i have something i love to challenge people who protest other people when they are exuberantly expressing a possibly uncomfortable aspect of their culture. i love when black pride and mexican pride events arise especially, because even the most liberal of white people express opinions on how offensive it would be to orchestrate a white pride event. when gay pride events come around protesters are typically uncomfortable, and most will even admit to not being bothered by the “gays,” they just don’t need it rubbed in their faces with an enormous event to where they can’t even walk outside and not witness such a discomforting and sinful anti-societal norm.

aside from the fact that in california in particular, the gay community is a pretty normal piece of our society and daily environment, some people prefer to believe that it will never be worth accepting. there are many of these people to consider, as the prop 8 vote proved. to the people who want white pride days and to have the gay community stay in their closets; i would love to ask if you’ve ever been forced to feel ashamed for being who you are. i would like to ask you if you were born in a skin that you were afraid to feel comfortable in, or within a “race” that is weighed down by a history of prejudice, hate, pain, and discrimination. to the people who want a white pride month; when were you put in the position to where you weren’t allowed to be proud of being white? when did the color of your skin force you to hide from people who treated you like you weren’t a human being? when did someone look at you and assume you to be a criminal strictly based on your nationality? yes, there are many people with white skin that have experienced discrimination and pain, but as a whole white americans live much more comfortably than most minorities.

i would love to ask the protesters of the pride festival if they were often killed for their beliefs and sexual preferences. i would love to ask if they’re straight lifestyle caused strain within their families, and secrets that could cause a lifetime of lies and depression. for years these “gays” have been persecuted, and for what? they were never allowed to feel comfortable in their skin, and now they can take pride in who they are? is that offensive? let them take pride, and count your blessings for being born into a societal norm. count the days the color of your skin color didn’t bring false judgment and persecution from others, and count the times you could hold your lover’s hand in public without being scoffed at. these people have felt shame and helplessness for too long, and now that they aren’t being enslaved, completely outcasted, or killed; let them finally be happy for who they are, without restraint and judgment.

i have never been told to not be proud of who i am, and most of what i’ve done has been insignificant thus far. if i had suffered this kind of oppression, i would gladly accept a parade to channel such an abundance of pride and relief. the people who don’t appreciate this level of release and joy will never live to their greatest potential, because they will be bound to a sheltered and selfish life of misunderstanding.   

11:42 am  •  19 July 2010  •  1 note

PART 4: end

11:01 pm  •  18 July 2010

PART 3: yes, there are many parts to this insane colorful evening.

11:00 pm  •  18 July 2010

PART 2

10:54 pm  •  18 July 2010

just another saturday night on willamette with some of the greatest people in san diego JULY 17, 2010 was for the books. PART 1

10:49 pm  •  18 July 2010

wes and i were able to enjoy a long overdue hike yesterday. we were fortunate enough to experience fantastic weather, and the waterfalls were far from dry. we left a bit later than i had hoped, but we got there in plenty of time to hike down to the falls, relax for a bit, and hike back to the car. i won’t lie; it was an extremely strenuous hike. the book said its be “moderately strenuous”; the book lied. even though i practically died on the way back up, i literally cried and wanted to be left behind, i look forward to returning to, and possibly camping at that spot. bella had a wonderful time, and she’s even a bit sore today. i’m terribly sore; wes is fine, as always. hopefully we can plan a camping trip there in the near future and until then i will attempt to get in better shape.

3:23 pm  •  17 May 2010

I really wanted to post something else here, so the page doesn’t sit in idle until it becomes forgotten. Pathetic, I realize, but I don’t care. I found an excerpt from a journal entry that contained a thought I had experienced. It was definitely more of an experience than just a thought, and I figured I’d share it. It was transcribed on February 4, 2010. It is a watered down and shortened version of my mini-revelation. Food for thought?

I think that people only need to be passionate about a few things in their lives to find passion in most of the worthy elements of life. I believe this also creates happiness. I love to write, and I enjoy photography, nature, and music. These are things that I can be passionate about, and they create so many outlets for me. By loving to write, I notice details, and I can create stories based on situations and things I observe. I appreciate everything that is beautiful, and I respect all aspects of every different category of beauty. In photography I look for things that are different, and I look for change. Both writing and photography make me search for things worth holding onto. I want to record that situation, or capture that moment forever. In enjoying nature I can look past a bad day and search for clouds and find happiness under a tree. By loving music I can enjoy the romantic and lyrical side of life. A song can turn so many things around, and churn things inside of me that can’t be touched any other way. All of these things put together make it so hard to be an angry person. They make me forgive the bad, empathize with the sad, and forever make me able to find the good. In turn I guess I am passionate about food, animals, movies, books, and doing what is right above all else. These thoughts and this figuring out of things just wouldn’t leave me be this morning, so I figured I’d write them down. 

12:59 pm  •  6 May 2010

Once we left the apartment, Wes and I arrived inside of a parking structure. People that we knew were with us, I think Lisa, Dustin, and Andy. I wanted to ask Wes about his model ex-girlfriend, but when I looked to him, I couldn’t do it; I just became content. A guy from high school, Matt Carelas, was in the parking lot, but since none of us really cared for him we just pretended that he didn’t exist. Dustin wanted to hurt him. Matt had become even more grossly skinny, and he kept smirking at everyone. This made us even less fond of him. I don’t exactly remember the order of events after that, but I believe they are as follows.

            We were all in a place full of yellow and green, and everything had warmth about it. There were swampy plants and high grass, and a lot of water. We were being taught about the killer penguins that inhabited the water. It was as if we were looking at a clear screen that played out the penguins’ behaviors. Their beaks were lined with sharp little teeth, and they we extremely fast, in and out of water. They were savagely killing things on the screen, and then it disappeared. It was only Wes and I in the water. Our friends were close by, around the bend, and we could hear them. We were slightly entangled by the everglade-like grass, but we could swim through it. The water was really deep, and as Wes and I swam towards the voices of our friends we noticed that the water’s floor was littered with piles of little stone-like white balls. We were scared to be attacked by penguins, and Wes thought that the strange rocks on the bottom were skeletons. I assured him that they weren’t, and we approached our friends. They were sitting at a table towards the water’s surface that was similar to he broken one in our backyard, umbrella and all. Half of our friends’ bodies were under water sitting on the table’s floating benches, so we joined them. Once we were sitting beside them, we left.

            Wes and I were separated again. This time I felt like I was in a scary movie though. I was walking through in empty half lit house. Apparently it wasn’t empty though, because there were two men standing in a large white room. There was also a small girl who must have been around my age, and the scarier looking of the two men was kicking her. He kicked her, hit her, and threw her. Most of the room was taken up by a large empty swimming pool, and the girl was bleeding all over the white concrete. I don’t think I voluntarily jumped in to save the girl, but rather was thrown into the pool by the second man. After tossing me like a ragdoll he tried to somewhat fill me in on what was going on. Apparently the first monster of a man just loved hurting people. He would find them, capture them, and enjoy hurting them. He loved to watch others in pain, but his technique was off. I could tell that he had no patience. A person that truly loves hurting people and basking in their pain would want to maximize the experience; they would need practiced patience and technique in torture. This man just kept beating the girl in a guerilla style fight. She stood no chance against him, but her defense must’ve been the fact that she was numb by then. Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was being hit in the face. My mouth was full of blood, and my vision became slightly blurred. The girl and I took turns receiving the blows of the relentless monster, and we were informed by the other man that we’d be dead soon. He said that the monster wouldn’t be able to control himself and that he would kill us very soon; we would die in the empty pool. I tried to fight back, but all of my pitiful efforts were in vain. The monster broke my right arm and lifted me out of the pool. He lifted my entire body above his head so that he could slam it on the deepest floor of the pool. It became hard to move, and I was a mess. The other girl was in worse shape then me, so I crawled to be near her. I just kept hoping that Wes didn’t find me. I didn’t want him to see me, and I didn’t want him to die like I was about to. The monster jumped into the pool, and all of the sudden there was a large group of people around us. He hit me in front of everyone, and then leapt back out of the pool. He said we’d all be dead soon. There were at least twenty of us being held captive by these two men. The girl who I had been with the entire time was lost within the group of people. I felt sad that I couldn’t find her. Before I could start looking for her, the two men left the room. I don’t know why, but they just decided to step out. Frenzy began as we all started climbing out of the pool, and everyone fled the room. Everyone was exiting different doors, and the girl caught up with me, so we ran outside together. Neither of us knew what to do, so we just kept running. We ran up a hill that must’ve been the street Avati, and once we reached the corner of Moraga we jumped into some bushes. The two men were down the street a little ways, and we couldn’t risk being recaptured. We waited for a little bit, and I knew I needed to find Wes. An ice cream truck stopped on the street in front of us and inside of it a couple offered us a ride. I don’t know why exactly, but we did not go with them. I think we were too scared to move. Once we figured that the men had gone far enough in another direction, we started walking down the street. Another ice cream truck started driving beside us, and we were ready for a ride. The people in the truck pulled into a church’s parking lot across the street. We ran for the truck and climbed into the back quickly. The inside of the truck was lined with metal benches, and there was a little fluffy dog sitting between the driver’s seat, and passenger’s seat. We had no idea who was sitting up front or who was driving. We were just reassured by whoever it was that we’d be driven far away. That was all that mattered. I was finally relieved, and felt like I could relax. I melted into the bench and thought about Wes. I wondered where he was, and I knew he was ok. I knew I was going to find him really soon. We were driving on a vaguely familiar road in Temecula. It was West of the freeway and we were surrounded by hillsides and sunshine. I could finally rest. The girl that had been with me was gone, but the little dog still sat contently in front of me. We kept driving and everything dimmed a bit, and everyone kept disappearing. I never saw who was driving. Soon, I was alone riding along the hills during sunset. It was as if I was in an invisible car, because I was alone, but I kept going. I was safe. I randomly saw flashes of Wes’ face, but I never found him. Everything changed, darkness prevailed, and I woke up.

(dream occurred during nap on april 27, 2010)

      The ending is pretty anti-climatic, but I had no power over it. Pretty strange, I wish I could salvage it into some sort of working plot, but that’s doubtful. Anyway, a good read if you were bored. I hope. 

3:50 pm  •  29 April 2010

     Wes and I were in line on what seemed to be a very long street. The street simulated Sports Arena Blvd. and a street in P.B. that I cannot recall the name of. It was as if these two streets were mixed into one, but from behind me it stretched as far as I could see. We were being given cans of ketchup from the government. It had a very communistic feel as we waited for our turn to receive food. I waited for our turn and I was afraid they wouldn’t give me very much ketchup because I didn’t have a large empty can like all of the people around me. Before I could worry any longer a lady on the other side of the ketchup-filling table grabbed a can and filled it with ketchup from some huge pump contraption. She handed me the can and I moved along. Another lady down the line took my can and poured it into a large pot of beans. They were making each of us a custom pot of beans. The pot was large enough to deep fry an adult turkey, and a man was stirring the bubbling beans. They kept adding more ingredients and I just rejected the ones that involved meat. The lady poured a huge bowl of chunky broth into my beans, and assured me that it was vegetarian. I swore that I had seen a piece of sausage within the broth and when I poked around the beans with a wooden spoon I uncovered the meat. While the lady was looking away I placed the sausage on the table. My beans were ruined, and there was no way I would eat them. I don’t think that I realized the severity of wasting the beans until later, but I had a feeling that mine and Wes’ food supply had been reduced greatly for a while. I felt bad for the wasted beans and for taking so long during my turn in line. When I turned back to see all of the people who had been in line behind me, the street was empty. I turned in the other direction to where Wes was in the intersection below, and he said it was time to go.

      I was in a kitchen with my parents and some strangers. Wes wasn’t with me, and I realized that we were in the kitchen/bathroom of a small studio apartment in La Jolla. I vaguely remember driving there, and all of the buildings were close together and connected by hallways instead of streets. From overhearing the people around me I gathered that we were in the costly home of a semi-successful model. A guy referred to her as a super-model, and he was promptly corrected. A lady in the room declared that the model was only locally known. None of this mattered to me; I was just in awe by the apartment. The counters were as high as my head, and I couldn’t reach the cabinets. I also wondered whether there was a hidden sink in the bathroom area where I was standing, or if the model washed her hands in the kitchen sink after using the facilities. Either way, I was a little grossed out. We walked into the living room which also was the bedroom, I assume, and into a small salon. The salon was equal in size to the rest of the apartment, and was set up for nails, waxing, make-up, and hair. All of the little towels, nail polishes, and any other supplies were labeled with a little Sephora flame. It was as if Sephora sold commercial salon products, and this model had bought all of them. I figured that if the model didn’t make much modeling, it was probably subsidized by this little salon. It was clean, and could house at least four employees. I was still confused as to why she had dedicated half of her apartment to being a salon, money aside, but I was distracted by the constant gossip surrounding me. A person named Pat was brought up, and whether the model would get back together with him or not. I wondered if they meant Pat from Essentials, and if the said model was Jenika. Apparently I was wrong, and the lady asked if I was still seeing Wes. I confirmed that I was, and she said the model was also considering getting back together with him. I was very confused and becoming upset, but I just concluded that Wes must’ve met her while we were not together. I just wondered why he had lied to me about it. 

10:42 am  •  29 April 2010